


Pretty Stanford Wife

by Morethanbrotherssoulmates



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean, Feminization, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Wifey Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 02:35:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1180905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morethanbrotherssoulmates/pseuds/Morethanbrotherssoulmates
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam wakes up to Dean wearing his baggy Stanford t-shirt and can't control his reaction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretty Stanford Wife

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: morethanbrotherssoulmates
> 
> I hate this title but I can't think of anything else and am open to suggestions!

The first time it happens Sam isn’t able to control his reaction. It is a morning like any other in the bunker except for once Sam is the one who slept in throwing off their usual morning routine. Sam walks into the kitchen barefoot, pyjama bottoms slung low on his hips, still stretching and trying to wake himself up when he sees it.

Dean is in the kitchen wearing one of Sam’s old Stanford t-shirts; it is draped around his leaner frame and is so long that you can barely see the bottom of his boxers. The top is so big it hangs off of Dean’s shoulder, exposing a small patch of golden skin dusted with freckles, as he shuffles around the kitchen preparing breakfast. Sam feels his cock stiffen as he leans against the kitchen counter and watches his brother wriggling his hips as he stirs what Sam assumes is pancake batter. When Dean walks over to the fridge and leans down to pull out the orange juice, the Stanford top pulling up to reveal a small sliver of skin, Sam can’t take it anymore.

Before he knows what he is doing Sam has Dean pinned against the fridge, nipping at his neck and kissing his exposed shoulder, as Dean leans into his touch. His hands are rough as he lifts Dean up to straddle his waist and carries him over to the kitchen table before laying him down and kissing a path down his neck.

“Sam”, Dean breathes out, “What has gotten into you?”

Sam stops briefly, a faint blush on his cheek as he looks down at Dean, and mumbles.

“You just look so pretty…like my perfect little wife all dressed up in my top cooking breakfast.”

Sam expects Dean to growl and push him away feeling insulted. What he doesn’t expect is to feel Dean’s rapidly hardening cock against his thigh and for Dean to thread his fingers into his hair, pulling him closer for a bruising kiss.

Sam licks into Dean’s mouth, tasting the faint flavour of coffee and hazelnut on Dean’s tongue, as he presses them closer together and pushes Dean down onto the table. Sam mouths his way down Dean’s face, from his temple, to his eyes, to his nose, to his cheek and finally to his chin. He kisses just under Dean’s neck, dragging his teeth across his collar bone, and eliciting a moan from Dean. Dean sighs into Sam’s touches, trailing his hands down Sam’s chest and pulling him closer in an attempt to get him to move faster.

“C’mon Sammy… I may be your wife but I am not made of china. You’re not going to break me” Dean growls trying to buck up to gain some friction against his straining erection.

“Fuck Dean” Sam gasps pushing his hands under his top and pulling Dean’s boxers down to free his cock, now leaking precome onto Sam’s Stanford t-shirt.

Sam runs his tongue along the underside of Dean’s cock, sucking lightly at the head, and hollowing his cheeks to take Dean deeper. He started slowly building the pace until Dean is a writhing mess beneath him, practically begging Sam to let him come.

“Uh uh Dean…. I want to see my gorgeous wife all wet and spread open for me” Sam says smirking as he pushes a lubed finger into Dean at a torturously slow pace.

He twists his finger, adding another one slowly and spreading Dean wide, listening to him moan and whimper in ecstasy.

“Jesus Sammy please….just fuck me already.”

“You’re so beautiful De, all spread out desperate and needy. Fuck you have no idea how perfect you are” Sam whispers back rubbing lube on his achingly hard cock.

Sam ducks his head down to give Dean one last lingering kiss before he begins to push in slowly, feeling the tight pull of Dean around him. Dean gives a shuddery moan as Sam grinds into him with soft shallow thrusts of his hips.

“So fucking tight for me Dean” Sam pants into Dean’s ear pulling him up into a sitting position and dragging their hips closer together.  

The angle is a little uncomfortable at first, with the table blocking Sam full access to Dean, but when he pulls Dean further off of the table, so that he is basically straddling Sam’s hips mid-air, they both groan in pleasure.

Sam wraps his arms around Dean, pulling him flush against his body, setting a steady pace. He isn’t able to thrust into Dean very hard like this but he doesn’t really need to as he grinds against that sweet spot inside Dean, pressing their bodies close together, and nibbling on his neck. Within minutes Dean is whimpering into Sam’s neck as he places a hand between them to steadily stroke his cock in rhythm with Sam’s thrusts.

“Love you so much De. My pretty little wife, so fucking perfect” Sam moans as he feels the tight pressure in his stomach intensify and his orgasm build.

Hearing Sam call him his wife again, while pressed so deep inside him, pushes Dean over the edge. He gasps for air as his stomach muscles flutter, white sparks lighting behind his eyes, as he bites down on Sam’s shoulder muffling his cries. The feeling of Dean spasming around him hits Sam like a truck and it isn’t long before he is coming, Dean’s name on his lips as his hips stutter to a stop.

Sam plants wet kisses down Dean’s neck, sucking a bruise just above the collar of the t-shirt, before pushing his lips against Dean hungrily.

When they both finally come up for air, Sam smiles tentatively at Dean.

“So this is ok?”

“It’s the way you say wife Sammy….I know it’s not an insult. It’s filled with reverence, love and awe….Fuck it’s hot.” Dean whispers capturing Sam’s lips again.

“It isn’t okay. It’s fucking perfect.” 


End file.
